


O my dear Doctor, you have been naive

by Rae_Saxon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cosmos Without the Doctor says hi, Dubious Consent, F/M, Love myself a good "The Master travels with the Doctor and she has no idea" AU, More angst, lovesick fools
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Saxon/pseuds/Rae_Saxon
Summary: The Master doesn't reveal his real identity at the end of Spyfall Pt 1 and a smitten Doctor invites O into the TARDIS, to travel with them. Events of S12 still occur, from the Master's point of view. Who's totally not falling in love. One can't fall into something they're already lying in, with cosy pillows and a TV set up. Then again, he's not I N love either. Nope. Not happening.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 111
Kudos: 446





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so I saw this Tumblr post: 
> 
> https://mastershearts.tumblr.com/post/611696995725344768/season-12-but-the-master-kept-pretending-to-be-o
> 
> And basically begged to be allowed to write my version of it, so here we are, I guess I'm doing this now. :D I'm a bit nervous because I love the idea and I hope I can do it justice. So yeah. Let's start this journey! Which, coincidentally, forces me to rewatch loads of S12. Oh nois!

Everything was going as planned.

Which, if the Master was perfectly honest, was a little unsettling.

“You should look for the Spy _master_ ,” he announced to the Doctor, because, really, this was going a little too flawlessly. Wouldn't she have noticed by now?

But she just stared at him blankly.

He turned around with a bewildered shrug, his glance on the shelf full of files about the Doctor he had just left lying around openly.

“ _Didn't know you were such a hoarder,”_ she had announced to him as she had looked around curiously, completely over-looking them.

He wasn't sure what to do next, actually. He hadn't planned for this to go this far? Maybe he should simply get caught up in his story, make a simple mistake, let his identity slip just enough for her to notice without catching on to the fact that he... well... wanted to be caught?

He was at a loss.

There she was, looking at him with that little smile of hers, the smile she only gave those she _liked_ , beckoning for him to take a look inside her TARDIS. As if she was about to ask him to stick around, travel with her. And he hated the way his hearts sped up with wild hope, even as he had a look around the ridiculousness that she called a TARDIS.

Hated the way he had to catch his breath before stepping out to face her again, all glowing pride and excitement in her new, beautiful hazel eyes.

It really wasn't quite fair, that. They had wanted to travel together, ages ago. He had let that idea die, ages ago.

“Come on,” she grinned, surprisingly grabbing his hand and the Master looked down at their intertwined fingers with shock.

This was far too familiar, hit far too close home. He quickly pulled back his hand and she looked at him with a mix of sadness and resign on her face.

“Time for a change of wardrobe,” she explained, voice quiet. “For the party?”

He nodded, still lost for words.

“Are you alright?” she asked, sounding worried. “I know, today was a bit much to take in.”

The Master shook his head.

“It's not that, it's just...”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

_It's just that I have to add to my plan now and you touching me is distracting me, from my very important mission of kissing..... killing you. Killing. That was the plan._

“O?”

He flinched.

Right, let's not forget your role, Master.

“It's just crazy, isn't it? You spend all this time getting laughed at, for believing in aliens and then you're friends with this mad lady and her box of wonders, running to save the world in a Smoking.”

To that, the Doctor grinned. Of course she did. She couldn't resist it, ever, bringing wonder into an ordinary human's life. He knew that grin, he had seen it so many times before. Always aimed at someone else, in a way that had made him sure that he would never, ever receive it.

Yet, here he was and it hit him full force and he knew, in that exact moment, looking at that smile, what she was about to say.

“You could come too, you know?”

“Seriously?” he tried to smile, tried to sound amazed, but his mouth was dry and his lips suddenly felt too heavy to move.

“Yeah, why not?” the Doctor told him warmly. “Always got a spot for one more person. Especially a spy.”

“I should probably mention I'm really bad at being a spy,” the Master joked lamely and the Doctor laughed.

“I know. It's why I like you.”

“Hey, Doctor!” Yaz ran out of one of the corridors, a black dress in her hands, sparkling lightly. “Can I wear this?”

“Sure,” she grinned, then turned back to him. “Come on, we gotta get dressed. You just think about it, alright?”

The Master nodded.

Oh, he was thinking about it.

Even centuries later, he would be able to determine the exact moment in which he'd made his decision, despite not realising it when it happened.

He was standing there, next to Yaz, watching her play with snide comments, just to have a little bit of fun, when he heard the Doctor shout through the whole room.

Turning towards her, he could see several people shake their heads, clearly amused, but with affectionate smiles on their faces, over the woman who had walked into a casino party and played the wrong game.

It was then and there his heartbeats quickened and a silent, soft smile stole its way on his face, as he watched her grin and talk her way through the staff, the exact opposite of subtle undercover work – She had lit up the whole room, attracted gazes from everywhere and was shining in a way it made him swallow hard.

God, would he ever be immune to the absolute light she radiated into his darkness?

She turned towards him, having noticed that he watched her and gave him the tiniest smirks. And for a few minutes, completely wrapped up in the look in her eyes, he was sitting next to Yaz, completely dazed.

Blabbering something random about luck in love, he couldn't help but think that this time around, for the first time in a long, long while, his affection didn't seem to be... well... unrequited.

It was just typical, wasn't it? The Doctor running around, crushing on the next-best human, who, just by the way, was also an idiot. And also... well.... _him_.

He smirked.

Well, she'd see where it got her.

“You alright?” Yaz wanted to know and the Master flinched out of his thoughts, giving her a quick glance, then forcing himself to a smile. This was the second time today he had caught people's attention while thinking about the Doctor – He really needed to control himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking...” He let his voice trail.

“About the Doctor?” she smirked and the Master gulped.

“Uhm. Well she's...”

Yaz waited for him to finish his sentence with a smile on her face that was a little bit _too_ knowing for his taste.

He simply grimaced.

“How'd you two meet, anyway? She never tells us much about her past.”

The Master shrugged.

“We... well... We met fleetingly. Fought some aliens together. No one would believe me, even after. They believe in the Doctor, alright, but that's all.” A little bit of scorn stole its way into his voice. The Master hadn't cared much, about their mocking, their jokes on his expense. They were just humans. What did they know?

It had still been highly satisfying to chase them down for the kill, one by one.

“Can't meet the Doctor and not believe in her,” Yaz smiled.

 _Humph_ , the Master thought.

He wasn't one of them. Wasn't going to run around, telling tales of the Doctor and how much she had enriched his life – He was going to leave that to someone else.

No, he would destroy her, utterly break her, tore her into pieces and then show the universe who she really was. And who knew her best, who knew all her blind spots, all her weaknesses and could play her like no one else.

Her smile was still etched into her mind, replayed in front of his inner eye again and again. Such a small grade between love and hate, oh, he _knew_.

But he had never been known as someone who walked on the line.

The plan was still going flawlessly. She wasn't going to stop him, of course. He had dismissed the idea of a bomb quite quickly, had told Barton to get away with a parachute and watched her struggle to fly a plane for a while, while her... team had lost their minds, it had been hilarious.

“Stop panicking,” she was shouting from the cockpit while trying to command the stiff steering wheel. He watched her, laid back in his seat, sure that no one was paying any attention to him.

“I'm not panicking!” Graham called, just as Ryan shouted “We're all going to die!”

“I can hear a slight edge of panic,” the Doctor called from the cockpit. “Very subtle.”

“Well, if you can, it's just because _we're all going to die!_ ” Graham shouted back in a way that made the Master sure that, when he eventually was going to kill him, he would do it on top of a very high building.

Maybe the Eiffel Tower.

When the flight finally smoothed and the Doctor raised her hands in victory – before hastily returning them to the steering wheel, smiling sheepishly at Graham, who had just dared to let go of his seat and shot her death glares – the Master hummed happily.

Barton was on the run, the plane back in safe flight (he had never doubted the Doctor in the first place. Never. But his TARDIS was on remote control for whenever he needed it. Just in case. Because the Doctor was a horrible pilot and he had absolutely doubted her) and everything was going well. Now all he had to do was prevent the Doctor from finding out about the Silver Lady and Earth was going to be invaded and humanity eradicated in no time at all.

The Doctor found out about the Silver Lady within an hour, completely wrecked it within ten minutes later, gave the _Kasavaan_ an annoyingly smug speech for about 193993 million minutes, then banned them back into their own dimension. The only comfort the Master had, was Barton getting away, which meant that bloody failure of a human couldn't give him away and ruin... well, the actual important phase of his plan.

He grinned.

He could stand her winning now, oh he could, because it meant she was going to loose even harder later. Meant he would witness her first look at the ruins he had turned Gallifrey into.

“So,” the Doctor said to him, later that day, when they had finally made it back to her TARDIS, the black Smoking covered in dust and a sheepish smile on her lips. “Quite and eventful day, huh?”

He looked at the ship, tried to see what he saw, tried to understand the look of pure affection and fulfilment whenever she returned to it, a hand stroking the blue wood longingly, but he just couldn't. Her hearts seemed to cling on this stupid old thing as much as his clung to her on a bad day.

“I've been told that was one of your quiet days,” he smiled and she grinned back.

“Did they say that? Ah well, I suppose...” She shoved a strand of hair out of her face and the Master registered with a quickening of his hearts that she was embarrassed.

“I was just wondering. It's not... I mean... it's not too much, is it?”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending he didn't know what she was talking about, just for the sake of watching her stumbling through this conversation a bit more. She was so rarely lost for words around him, he needed to savour this moment completely.

“I mean... The offer's still... you could... come with us. If you wanted to.”

“Oh,” the Master said and he could see the corners of her mouth twitch – Hand it to the Doctor to immediately fall victim to a bad pun. “Right. Well, I suppose...” He pretended to think, to hesitate, pretended to think about all the things he was going to leave behind (nothing, he was not leaving behind anything, screw this planet, screw humans, screw the universe. The only person he had only ever wanted to chase was standing right in front of him, offering him _everything_ ).

“I suppose I could give it a go.” He put on his widest smile and could see the relief on the Doctor's face, as she reciprocated it with a glow matching his own.

“Brilliant! You're gonna love it, you just wait! The others will be thrilled! Come on in, then!”

She pushed the door open and the Master swallowed.

There it was. All he had ever wanted.

Only a few centuries too late.


	2. Chapter 2

That idiot Graham had catapulted them into a holiday resort quicker than the Master could cringe over the horrible speedo joke.

He looked around with a grimace, feeling the sun burn on his skin, smelling the chlorine in the air, and he immediately sensed, then and there, that something was off.

He turned towards the Doctor, curious if she could sense it too, but before she could even react, they were invaded by.... _God_ , this woman.

Never, in all of his existence, had he encountered any person babbling more and faster than the Doctor. She was his absolute limit of what he could bear, often surpassing it, but in his modest opinion, everyone talking more like her, really had death coming.

 _Behave_ , his own inner voice growled. _You're O, remember? O doesn't kill nice, chatting ladies._

O really, really should start to, though.

Fine, he wouldn't kill her, then. It was just so _hard_ , considering how every little bit about her appalled him. Hyph3n with a 3. What sort of a name even _was_ that?

She announced to them with a wide, cheerful smile (that made the Master want to barf) that they had rooms ready and all inclusive packages given to them. It was.... a bit too easy, of course, but the human fools walked off, contently babbling about holidays.

The Doctor and he stayed behind, exchanging a look.

“Five person all inclusive holiday from coupons alone?” he muttered helpfully, just in case she didn't get there on her own. She was a bit slow, sometimes.

The Doctor grinned.

“Good to have you on board, O. Let's have a look around, shall we?”

She shuffled around excitedly, looking left and right, smiling at people in a way that was supposed to be inconspicuous but drew everyone's attention towards her immediately, and he walked a bit behind, the obedient side kick. She looked a bit lost around here, wrapped up in her long coat, staring at the quiet pool and the Master couldn't help but smirk.

“Not a holiday person, then?”

Of course she wasn't. She hated peace and quiet.

“Are you?” she asked with a little smirk and he shrugged.

“Not really. I think relaxing wasn't on my agenda when I signed up to become a spy.”

She laughed.

“Relaxing wasn't on my agenda when I decided to run from home and never look back, either. Somehow, my friends always end up wanting to do it, though.”

Something about it stung, deep in his hearts and he swallowed hard, trying to drive it away, trying to bury it. Instead, it simply seemed to dig in deeper.

“Well, I'm sure we'll find _some_ trouble here to pass the time.”

“I'm sure we will,” the Doctor grinned and, to his horror, held out a hand to him. “Wanna go check out inside?”

He hesitated, his hand twitching, but not moving towards hers and she quickly let her own fall, smiling sadly.

“Sorry,” she said. “Forgot you're not doing that.”

“It's fine,” he replied, so fast he almost stumbled over his own words. “It's fine, don't... I mean...”

He meant, what? What exactly could he tell her, right now, in the role of a smitten MI6 agent, that would make any sense to her? How could he ever transport centuries of longing for this moment, how could he ever make her see that if he ever, ever took her hand again, he wanted it to be offered to him knowingly?

“You're different, you know?” she asked with a thoughtful look on her face and he froze.

“In what way?”

Cold panic settled in his stomach and for a minute, he thought this was it, she was figuring it out, he was going to have to continue his plan, find a way out and set things in motion. His pulse quickened.

His plan... Right. He had, for a hot minute, forgotten about it.

But he _wanted_ to do that.

... Right?

“I don't know. I had lots of friends over the years. No one quite like you. Can't place it, though.” She gave him a broad grin. “Let's go inside, see what the rest of the fam is up to!”

_The rest of the fam..._

What an utterly stupid name.

What an utterly stupid feeling of blind, overwhelming hope, when he realised he was _included_ in it.

Of course, everything was going down the drain the second the Doctor had let her pets run around freely. The boy, Ryan, had caught himself a Hopper virus and looked like an idiot, sitting in a corner, sucking his thumb like a toddler, while trying to be smooth.

“That girl's never going for you,” the Master mumbled under his breath.

“Hopper virus,” the Doctor announced with a broad grin, not having heard him and held it in the air, close to his face and trapped in a bag of chips that was definitely not sterile.

He flinched back.

“Keep that away from me!”

She laughed.

“It's the trouble we were looking for! Come on, we gotta investigate!”

The Master sighed, feeling a familiar prickle of adventure run through him. There she was, smiling at her the exact same way _he_ used to, so many years ago, holding up that bag like a trophy, her eyes sparkling, just for him.

He didn't stand a single chance.

“Okay, let's go!”

Hearing the Doctor and Hyph3n chat with each other almost made him expose his identity then and there, just to shut them up for a few minutes.

 _How_ , he thought, just how couldn't the Doctor have known where the '3' in 'Hyph3n' was? There was only one letter that was regularly replaced by the number '3' by – he shuddered – hipsters and she really ought to know that.

Hyph3n opened the door and... well... wow. That was a beautiful collection of weapons right there. He stepped closer instinctively, eyes roaming over them in appreciation.

“Deadlocked room,” he heard the Doctor say. “With its own armoury. Don't tell me. Honeymoon suite?” and turned around with a broad grin.

“That's the kind of marriage you're familiar with, then?”

The little smile of excitement that had spread on her face died within an instant.

“Not familiar with any kind of marriage.” she finally brought out. “They usually kinda end up with my partners dead. Or... left.”

Before he could reply anything, his hearts beating far too fast, the alarm had already set off and a rather angry woman had crashed inside, shoved the Doctor out of her way and grabbed some of the weapons.

Now that was someone after his own tastes.

Personally, when everything shut down and Graham was running around wildly, looking for his grandson, the Master couldn't say he was too concerned. Ryan was certainly the weakest link in the group. Bit clumsy. Really bad at pick-up lines. The TARDIS was a bit crowded as it was and if he had to choose, he'd definitely keep Yasmin Khan – She was the most competent of the three – and Graham – he brought lots of snacks – over Ryan.

But he had never been quite that lucky. He gave Ryan a little nod as he returned with Graham and Bella ny his side, looking a bit startled, but mostly in one piece.

Shame. The Doctor would've been deliciously upset.

It took the Master the exact amount of ten minutes and forty-six seconds to over-think his decision – And, additionally, every life-decision he had ever made that had led him here.

He would've set up a nice little prayer altar and lit up several candles for Ryan, hell, he would've jumped into the action and saved himself, had it been necessary, if it only would make this woman shut up.

 _Please, Rassilon_ , he thought in his head. _I know, you and me, we had our differences. Shoved a White-point star down your throat. Watched you regenerate. Shoved in another one. Gotta appreciate they weren't that easy to find, though, I put in effort. Please. If you can hear me. Just... let her die, please?”_

But despite what many Time Lords might have once thought, Rassilon wasn't a God, just a de-throned tyrant obsessed with power (not quite as _elegant_ as certain other Time Lords obsessed with power, however) and that woman went on shouting for her Benni another two hours straight.

Between her and Ryan trying to bond with Bella over their dead parents, of _all_ things, he could be glad he had already lost his mind a long time ago.

At least he got to see the Doctor in gloves.

Hell. She looked good in gloves.

It was when Kane mentioned Orphan 55 for the first time, that he finally realised. It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

Earth.

They were on Earth.

A planet so unhabitable its natives had mutated.

He gave the Doctor a nervous look. She told her friends, then, all about Orphan planets, about the meaning this had, but neglected to mention which particular one they were on.

Didn't she know? Surely, she had to know...?

He watched her more carefully, after that, all his earlier annoyances forgotten. Every once in a while, she gave him a glance, but other than that, she let the action completely take her over, was busy leading the troupe and trying to save Benni.

 _Running away from the truth, as usual, Doctor,_ he thought grimly.

He was almost thankful when they finally fled into the tunnels. That Kane woman had shot Benni and immediately drawn the hatred of the entire crew onto herself.

He couldn't help it, he shot her an understanding smile. He sure knew how it felt to be the only person brave enough to do what had to be done.

He knew it right that moment, when the Doctor's pets found the sign, making the connection, knew from the little tremble in the Doctor's lower lip, the way her eyes twitched from left to right, trying desperately to find a way out, that he was going to have to be the one to say it.

But it was Yasmin Khan who got there first.

“Earth. This is Earth.”

And it was Yasmin Khan who asked all the right questions.

“How long have you known?”

They were all looking at the Doctor now, who looked subdued. “Just before you did, really.”

 _Liar_ , the Master thought, feeling a knot in his stomach. _And a bad one, too._

Vilma sacrificing herself for them – in his eyes the single best thing she had probably done in all her life – Oh, it was heavenly, blissful almost. All this silence was a blessing for his poor, tense nerves, all the quiet was...

A bit too quiet, actually.

He gave the Doctor a side glance.

She was smiling at him sadly, probably trying to look reassuring, and showed him how low her oxygen was. He had to turn away so she wouldn't see him laughing.

That idiot simply couldn't shut up.

What a pathetic death it would be, too, suffocating in these tunnels of an orphaned Earth. It had a bit of poetry, he supposed.

But he still had other plans for her.

Who saved the day, at the end of it all, wasn't the soldier, wasn't the Time Lords, no it was an abandoned daughter who had been determined to burn the place to the grounds and an underestimated child who was very much the smartest person on the planet – If you didn't include him and the Doctor, of course.

It was funny, that, he thought, as he saw Bella's hurting expression when she heard of the demise of the woman she had hated enough to plant several bombs in her life's work. When he saw the child getting the appreciation it deserved from his father for the very first time in its life.

How often the Doctor had tried to show him, tried to remind him of the beauty of the universe, in so many ways and places, back when she was trying to _fix_ him.

The Master thought that, in this moment, he got it better than a thousand shattering sunsets in the crystal skies could've ever made him understand.

That fashion choice of green hair, however? Still horrendous.

He was relieved when they had made it back to the TARDIS. Not that he had ever been seriously worried, not at all, but his patience had come to an end and upholding the role became harder and harder the more annoyed he got.

Before he could excuse himself to bed, however, the pets were suddenly rounding up on the Doctor and he froze in the door frame, watching awkwardly.

“It's just one possible timeline,” she reassured them. “It doesn't have to happen, can be averted.” A whole speech she gave to them and he just stood in the back, shaking his head softly when no one was looking.

That was not how time worked, not how reality happened and she knew it. What had gone down today – it was real.

“What if it was _your_ planet?” Yaz asked and the Master bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan.

Tetchy subject, that.

“My planet?” the Doctor asked, looking at all their faces. “Galli...”

Everyone's head shot towards her, eyes widened in curiosity and she sighed.

“You never say,” Graham finally threw in and the Master smirked – So showing him these files had had _some_ effect. “Where you come from. Who you really are.”

“Does it matter?”

“It kinda does. We've just seen our future. Possible future. But we still don't know a thing about you,” Ryan brought up.

The Master suppressed a quick grin.

No talking yourself out of that one now, Doctor.

“Fine,” she finally sighed. “Fine. I'm a Time Lord. I'm 1245 years old....” - The Master suppressed a cough. “... I'm from a planet called Gallifrey. Stole my TARDIS, one day, and ran away. From everything.”

The Master's hearts quickened in silent agony.

 _No, you're not,_ he thought. _And no you didn't. It'll get you, in the end. It will. Just like it got me._

It was weird, how much it could hurt to simply have something you have always thought was true torn away from you. All the pain was back within an instant, crashing back down on him. He thought of that child he had met a thousand years ago, eyes warm and hand out-stretched towards himself and somehow, that child was still her, but also a completely different person now, a person _above_ him, _more_ than him, further away from him, despite just standing there.

 _Oh, you don't know anything_ , he thought, tears shooting into his eyes and he blinked, determined to make them disappear again. That bloody affliction had started when she – well, he – had taught her how to _feel_ again.

_Stick to your role, stick to your role. She can't know, not yet._

Somehow he couldn't bear it, not right now, to loose even the little rest of her he still had.

Someone knocked on his door that night and he huffed, drying his eyes on his blanket, before opening, putting on what he hoped was a look of sleepy confusion.

It was the Doctor, of course.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a concerned whisper. “You looked upset, earlier and... uhm...”

 _You heard me crying,_ he thought. _And now you're too nice to bring it up._

“... I thought I'd check up on you. See if I can help.”

“I always thought it'd be fun,” he finally brought out. “Visiting the future. But that was...”

He stopped and she took a deep breath.

“I know. But it doesn't have to happen.” It was a weak comfort, a weak lie, offered with a weak smile.

“But what if it does, Doctor?” he asked, voice hoarse. “What if everything you're afraid of turns out to be true? What do you do?”

She leaned forward, then, giving him a little kiss on the cheek and with a blink of his eyes, the Master tried to hide away another burst of tears, feeling his hearts beat so fast, they caused him almost physical pain now.

“You hold on to all the things you're not afraid of, of course,” she smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Things were going exceptionally wrong.

Right.

Wrong?

If the Master was being honest, he wasn't sure any longer.

When Yaz had suggested to visit Gallifrey, see with their own two eyes where she came from, who she really was, he had been giddy with excitement. Finally, his plan was coming to fruition. The Doctor was going to stand in the ruins of their planet, broken, unable to understand what had happened and he had first row tickets, would be able to watch it all happen.

Even better than his initial plan of leaving her a nice little message, really.

Except... When he saw her little smile, saw the pride in her eyes glitter as she set time coordinates for a perfect double-sunset over the Gallifreyan hills, saw her jump around her console, the excitement in the pit of his stomach seemed to turn into something else, something heavy, contracting, making him ache.

A part of him wanted to stop her. Wanted to keep her from opening that door.

And yet, there he stood, unmoving, behind everyone else, watching helplessly when the TARDIS came to an halt and they all stood, exchanging excited glances, the Doctor's hand already on the door.

 _This is good_ , he reminded himself. _This is great. Break the Doctor. Hurt the Doctor. Drag her down to your level._

When she finally pushed the door open, he held his breath and he could hear from the gasps around him that he wasn't the only one. They were all staring, for a few seconds, staring speechlessly out of the ruins, the only thing left of what had been one of the most powerful civilisations in the cosmos.

“No,” the Doctor breathed, while her friends were visibly grasping for words, their lips twitching in shock. “No.”

She ran towards the console, checked the date, checked the coordinates, again and again, hectically, frantically, as if she didn't know, know exactly that she had come to right place, as if she couldn't see the shattered remains of the citadel.

Her eyes filled with tears and somehow, that was bad, that didn't feel right, that made everything worse. The Master's stomach cramped and he felt like throwing up.

 _Why_ , he thought bitterly, glad that no one was paying him any attention, no one was seeing his reaction. _Why are you crying for them?_

“This can't be, it can't be!” the Doctor called out, now running around the console in panic, trying to get information, trying to scan, trying to understand.

“I... I suppose this is not what it usually looks like, then?” Graham asked, his tone worried as he looked back out onto the beautiful remains of Gallifrey.

“No, no, no,” the Doctor replied, tearing at her blond hair.

 _Yes, yes, yes,_ the Master replied in his mind, carefully shielding his thoughts and emotions. _This is exactly what they deserve to look like. You don't even know all of it, but you know what they did to you. To me. To us. Why would you mourn them?_

“But what... what happened?” Yaz asked with trembling lips, her eyes never leaving the Doctor as she turned her back to the door, looking tormented. There was a hypnotising beauty to the ruins of this burning, red planet. The Master figured she couldn't bear to get lost in it again. “How can... what could've done this?”

“I don't know, I don't know, I'm trying to find out!” the Doctor's tone was impatient, frantic, her arms were waving around, trying to speed up the process, but of course, the scans wouldn't tell her anything. She shook her head, still completely speechless.

“But...”

The Master felt himself tremble in anger, as it spread its hot feelers all over his body, surged through his blood.

 _Why do you care, Doctor?_ he thought. _You never cared about me, about the ruins you've left me in, but them?_

“I'm... I'm sorry, Doctor,” Ryan brought out, but she shook her head, as if rejecting his words, as if rejecting the truth they brought with them.

“No,” she breathed again. “It's not true. An illusion. I can... I can go back. Save them. Save it. Maybe they relocated... maybe...”

But her voice faded, her face froze and her eyes began staring into nothing, gaze getting lost in the infinity of her pain, as she stood there, shoulders sunken, hands rested on her console, trying to grasp what had happened to her home.

No one dared to speak a word. The Master stepped closer, wanted to grab her, push her against the wall, tell her all that they'd done to her, all she didn't know yet, make her understand. They deserved this, the universe was better off without them, _she_ was better off without them.

He was already halfway in the movement, was ready to shove her down, make her look at him, make her listen to him, but when he raised his arms, when he looked at her, he saw the look on her face in close-up and it hit him full force, the desperation, the mindless, deep sadness settling in, the truth she had refused to accept.

And before he could think, before he could even understand what he was doing, he had already wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer instead of pushing her away, against his chest, careful not to let her hear his quickened double-heartbeat, as he held her. She didn't weep, didn't cry, but she stood there, tension leaving her body just a little, just a tiny bit, barely noticeable for anyone that wasn't him, and let him comfort her the way no words could right now.

It was ridiculous. He could hold it over her, of course, later on. When she finally realised who he was, oh, he could use it, could mock her for coming for comfort to the person who had committed the crime, could laugh at her for letting him hold her, but if he was being honest, none of that was on his mind right now.

All he felt was her fragile feeling body in his, the smell of her that reminded him of home, their _true_ home, not the shambles of the truth finally catching up with Gallifrey, the slight shaking of her limbs.

They had not been this close, this intimate in so long, he could barely remember what it was like to hold someone, to have his hearts speed up like that, to feel responsible for a person and how they felt. His actions had done this, his actions had had this effect on her and he was used to that, had made it his personal game to always, always top it, make her feel worse the next time off, he had forgotten what it was like to make her feel _better_.

It was wild how different it was, how it flooded him with affection and love he had not let himself feel in centuries.

The Doctor took a shuddering breath, then wriggled herself free from his grip, giving him the shortest of grateful smiles, so shaky, so weak it made his hearts ache, before closing the door with a little clearing of her throat.

“Well,” she finally spoke into the heavy silence of the room, sounding calmer now, resigned. “Now you know. At least you still have a planet. Still have a chance to change your future.”

“Can't... you, though?” Yasmin asked cautiously. “Isn't it the same? Different timelines that can still change if we go back and change the events?”

But the Doctor shook her head tiredly.

“It doesn't work like that. We're part of the events. It's fixed. And it's Gallifrey. There's only one Gallifrey in all the timelines, all the realities. And it's...” She shook her head. “It's like it's cursed. Just can't seem to stop falling.”

They exchanged glances, visibly trying to understand what the Doctor was talking about without having to ask, without having to cause her any more pain.

The Master shook his head slightly.

So what. Let it be fallen. Let it rot and burn and turn to dust over and over and over again. It had been built on a lie, built on the back of a child's suffering, on memories taken from her. A home, torn from her hands to build a new one, a fake one.

His face hardened.

No, he didn't have any regrets. She'd get over it. Move on. Be alright. Better than she had ever been. With him. Without this hellhole of a planet.

She didn't come to him that night. Of course she didn't. For all the jabs he made at her, for all the jealousy he had felt for her human pets, the Master knew better than to expect her to ever seek comfort from someone else, to ever try to alleviate her pain by talking, by sharing, by letting someone lift it, just a little, and opening up.

He was very much the same.

But he still lay awake, turned and tossed in the bed she had given him, still haunted by the look on her face, the pain in her eyes, and finally, finally, he simply gave up.

If she didn't come to him, he was simply going to go to her. They had done it like this his whole life (but not hers, not her whole life, not anymore, not any longer, he knew the truth now, he hated the truth, but he knew it), there was no point in stopping now, too late to change his ways.

He rolled out of bed with firm determination, pushing open the door and almost stomping through the hallway, trying to tell himself that the racing of his hearts came from anger, from purpose, not from the unending fear of being rejected.

He knocked on her door before he could stop and think and decide not to, four knocks, then again, four knocks, and again and again and when she finally opened, there were heavy rings beneath her eyes and strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks from the tears.

“Couldn't sleep,” he muttered. “Thought you might want some company. To... you know... not-talk. Just hanging out. So you're not... alone?”

It was weird, standing here, pretending he didn't know what to say, when he knew exactly the right words, yet still so scared, so endlessly scared.

But the Doctor, to his surprise, simply nodded and stepped aside, letting him in.

They sat down on her bed and the Master held himself together with all he had, tried his very best not to have a look around, take it all in. The Doctor's bedroom. The most private place she had in her ship, the place he hadn't entered in centuries....

Yet he kept his gaze focused on her, taking her hand gently between both of his, a thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. She let it happen, simply sat there, not saying anything and after a little while, she leaned back against him, her head falling to his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose. He leant his own head back against hers, squeezing her hand reassuringly, but didn't dare to move more.

He had no idea how long they sat like that, the sound of their breathing the only sounds that filled the air, the darkness around them comfort and suffocating at the same time. It felt like hours, when her breathing finally evened and her tension lifted a little and he realised she had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

The Master swallowed.

Gently, careful not to wake her up, he laid the Doctor down onto the bed, hesitating, before pulling her blanket over her, and settling down to sit beside her, eyes glued to her face, as she lay almost peacefully.

There was nothing to protect her from. The monsters were dead and the monster who had killed them was here, guarding her nevertheless, and if the only thing he could keep her safe from were her own nightmares, then he'd still take it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H-hey.... remember me? Hehe....he...
> 
> I wish I could give you an excuse better than "The Tesla ep kinda bored me so I procrastinated rewatching it for the entirety of 9 months.... And then it wasn't that bad at all." 
> 
> ALAS, I can't so uhm. Sorry. :S Good news is, I really like Fugitive of the Judoons, so we might get luckier with Chapter 5! :'D

The Doctor's tendency to simply ignore any- and everything traumatising by simply moving on was something he'd hated on his better days. Nine out of Ten times, he had been the thing he'd watch her move on from, had been standing there, lost in the shattered remains of his plots to get her attention and watch her leave without a look back. To new adventures, with new friends, making it abandonedly clear she didn't need him anymore.

But right now, he wasn't the only one irked by it. Tension was spreading over the TARDIS, seemed to wrap around them like thick smoke. Graham was watching her with growing despair, as she jumped around her console, following a signal none of them particularly cared about.

The girl, Yasmin, was trying to get her to talking and had been for the last ten minutes, but the Doctor did nothing but ignore her, evade her constant stream of questions and talk about the signal clearly being from someone in trouble.

Ryan stood at the side, hands in his pockets and watched the spectacle with a frown on his face.

Just when Yaz was about to open her mouth again, he gave her a gentle shove with his shoulder.

“Let it go. She doesn't wanna talk.”

The Doctor pretended not to hear him but the Master could see the way her knuckles turned white as she pulled on the lever, as she held onto it for a little longer than was necessary.

Was it rage, was it sadness, was it fear or a mix of all three? He couldn't tell and this version of her was unpredictable. Unpredictable because it was taking everything in, was so intent to carry nothing outside, no emotion, no single flash of weakness.

With a jolt, the Master realised she was slowly turning into him.

“So,” he asked, voice hoarse, threatening to give out on him, but he cleared it with a cough, stepping closer to her. All he could think of was to prevent this from ever, ever, ever happening. She needed trouble as she needed air to breathe, needed it to remind her who she was, to ground her, so trouble she'd get. “Where are we going, Doctor?”

She flashed him a grateful smile – And all the Master could think of was how different she'd look at him if she knew that he was the source of all her pain.

“I'd say we follow the signal. Track it down. See what it's all about!”

The... fam exchanged a few looks, not only with each other, but they included him and with all his might, he tried to signal them that the Doctor needed this right now, without actually using telepathy.

Finally, Yaz shrugged.

“Fine. Let's chase some trouble, then.”

  
So.

Nicholas Tesla.

The Master knew of him, of course, even knew the rough history behind his inventions and how Edison had used and overshadowed him at every turn. Something else to be there in person, watching it unfold in front of his eyes.

The Doctor was completely out of herself in joy, of course, bouncing about like an excited puppy as she told her pets all about the man and his inventions, praising his brilliance to the sky.

Please. He'd done so much better. Had invented so much more revolutionary devices, constructed them himself, with nothing but his genius assisting him.

The Doctor had never praised him.

Well, once, when she had thought she was an old professor stuck at the end of the universe, sacrificing himself for the survival of the human race. Just her jam, of course.

Not that he was jealous. He wasn't jealous at all. In a way, he even felt for Tesla – Could recognise himself in him. The way he was laughed at, made fun of, outcast by the society he was working so hard to improve. Used and tossed to the side.

Of course he'd never tell her that.

And he didn't need to, apparently.

Just after Tesla had spoken to her about it, the feeling of inventing something, making something real that had only existed in his mind, talked about how out of place he felt, how alone in his belief in anything alien, she leaned over to him, a little smile on her lips, eyes warm and said, “He reminds me of you.”

It hit the Master like a knife through both hearts. She couldn't know. Wouldn't know how right she was. And she still saw it in him clear enough to name it?

“Wh... what?” he brought out, voice stumbling and faltering and the Doctor's smile grew a tad sadder.

“Tesla. He's a lot like you, isn't he? Gets mocked and laughed at for believing in alien things and here we are. Clearly alien.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Well, I am. It's just... he's a lot like you. He won't let his beliefs go either, not for any false sense of belonging. Find that admirable, really.”

The Master forced himself to smile at her, forced himself to be grateful for the connection. She was comparing him to one of the brightest minds in Earth history. She meant well. She did.

But all he could think of was how it had been them against Gallifrey once, lying underneath the night sky, dreaming of running away together to escape a planet they had out-grown, to escape the judgements, the rules and laws caging them in, to be brilliant together, because together was the only place they'd ever _belonged_ in.

“He reminds me of _you_.” He heard the words leave his mouth, hadn't even thought about it, hadn't even meant to say them and she stared at him, smile fading off her face.

Her eyes were avoiding his when she spoke again.

“Dunno what you mean.”

It was a lie and weak one at that. He wondered if he was thinking about him, too. If her was ghosting through her mind, the memory of a dark-haired teenage boy in red robes who had been the only one to ever believe in her.

It's okay, he wanted to tell her. I'm here. I believe in you now. You can do this. You'll be okay.

But he said nothing.

And with a swift turn, the Doctor marched off to save the Earth.

Because oh, the days when she needed to hear him say it were long gone.

  
He wasn't sure who pissed him off more – The Skithra Queen with her stolen tech, spitting cocky insults at the Doctor (that was his job, after all) or that Edison fellow, constantly chewing their ears off. Both, he found himself agreeing with the Doctor, were nothing but thieves without a single, original thought in their minds, using other people's ideas without any sense of shame.

He was a villain, alright, but he also was an inventor, a good one at that, a better one than either of them and they were beginning to piss them off.

So when the Doctor was finally facing the Queen in a final showdown, plan ready and – he had to admit – not a bad one at that, he was almost relieved. It hadn't been fun, none of this was fun. Alright, some of it had been fun. The Doctor getting angry and giving speeches was always a little turn-on, if he was being quite true to himself.

Like right now, when she was facing the Queen, eyes cold and hard, just how he liked them.

The Skithra was holding her a whole speech about what she was about to do with planet Earth – Take every bit of tech, burn it to the ground, the usual. He was almost tempted to ask her to get on with it, when she said the sentence that made his hearts freeze.

“Have you ever seen a dead planet, Doctor?”

He couldn't help the little jerk, couldn't stop himself from staring at the Doctor, who had gone stiff before her. Her hands were in her pockets and he could see them cramp and clutch to fists. Her pets seemed to notice it too, because the tension in the air was almost palpable now and all eyes in the room were resting on the Doctor.

“I've seen more than you could possibly imagine,” the Doctor spoke, into the silence, trying not to let them see the ache in her hearts, when it was so obvious from the way her eyes had frozen, hadn't even blinked as she looked at the Queen, the tone in her voice that carried threat and disaster.

Crap, the Master thought. _He'd_ done that.

And somehow that wasn't a happy thought.

The only one completely, blissfully unaware was the Queen. Everything went incredibly fast after that. No second chances, no beating around the bush, no compassion left for her. She'd walked into the Doctor's trap and evaporated in front of their eyes, nothing left but a pile of ashes before them.

No one was saying a word as they dropped off Tesla and went back inside the TARDIS, shoulders hanging, looks exchanged every once in a while.

The Master didn't even have the energy to think about what a hypocrite she was – To kill like that and still feel like the hero, again and again.

All he saw was the way her whole back was tense when she leaned over the console, fists heavily resting on the metal to support her, head hanging down, covering her face in a curtain of hair.

The others seemed to want to say something, seemed to want to touch her, stepped closer, then hesitated and gave up on it, one after one. It was like watching a tragedy unravel. No one seemed to know how to get through to the Doctor, all of them had tried it too many times and failed.

One by one, they said good night to her, hands hovering in the air as if to touch her shoulder, before they simply dropped it and walked into the corridor leading to their bedrooms.

The Master remained.

He waited, unsure for how long. Minutes, maybe hours, he just stood there, watching her, giving her her time. He could tell that she knew he was still here, could feel their closeness in the air like other people felt rain on their skin.

“I don't know how to move on from it,” she finally admitted, voice weak, quiet, face still hidden beneath her hair. “All of it.”

He took some tentative steps closer towards her, despite wanting to run, wanting to hold her, shake her until her grief finally left her alone, until she finally could see that they weren't _worth_ it.

“You could talk to them, you know? They'd listen.”

It was a stupid suggestion – The Doctor wouldn't talk to them, couldn't burden them with all of it and they both knew it. But it was a suggestion O would make and so he had to make it, too.

“I can't.” She looked up now, hazel eyes dry but pleading. “I just can't. It's too much, too... too... raw.”

She waved her hands about aimlessly, then let them fall to her sides as if she'd lost energy to hold them upright anymore.

“You're talking to me,” he added, not sure why. He didn't want her to talk to them. They were useless humans, what would they even understand about it? Why would he want to drive her into their arms when he... when he...

_When he was right here, ready to hold her, wanting to hold her?_

There was a time for every super villain to realise they were helplessly in love with the hero of the story, the Master was sure – Not that he'd actually bothered to talk much to other super villains – and his moment came when the Doctor looked into his eyes full of warmth, despite the pain living in them.

“You're different. I don't know what it is. I feel like I can tell you everything. I know it's silly. Maybe. I... I don't know much anymore. But I know that you're different.”

His throat was dry and his hearts were beating out of his chest. Here it was, the one proof he had needed, offered to him on a silver plate – The proof that no matter what stood between them, he was _special_ to her.

That's what it was, right? She could feel it, sense it, that he was something close, someone she could trust, someone she could...

The hope in the Master's hearts shattered into a million tiny pieces. No. If the Doctor really could sense who he was, she wouldn't get trust and comfort back, she'd feel fear and disgust and danger radiate in waves from him.

He stepped closer, realising he'd been quiet for too long and simply took her in his arms again and she let him. Snuggled up against his chest, some of the tension leaving her body while the Master rubbed gentle circles into her back.

"Then I gotta be enough," was all he said.

Two things were painfully clear to him now.

One – He'd made a horrible mistake and there was nothing he could do to fix it. He loved her and breaking her would break him along with her.

Two – There was no way he could tell her who he really was, now. He was the closest thing to comfort she had and losing that to betrayal would, undeniably, break her.

As some of O's co-workers would say in a moment like this: He was fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno how this chapter happened, but I swear it was against my will. I guess... Fugitives of the Judoon comes next? :'D 
> 
> I'll give a warning for dubious consent in this chapter, I guess, because... well, it's Thirteen/O, isn't it? But I feel like everyone going into this story was kinda aware of that.

She had sneaked into his room again, that night, looking all sleepy and flustered and mildly upset and he couldn't help his racing hearts as he let her in, couldn't help following the steady trail of memories leading him back to Gallifrey, to sharing a room with her in the Academy, having her crawl into his bed whenever she dreamed badly – Which was more often than not.

“You're alright, Doctor?” he asked, even though he knew she wasn't and the Doctor just stood there, in front of his bed, shrugging and looking so incredibly lost.

“Truth is, I wasn't entirely honest with you, O, yesterday.”

The Master had smirked then, couldn't fight it no matter how much he tried, and rolled out of bed to stand with her, a hand on her shoulder.

“You never are,” he replied earnestly as he looked into her eyes. “I'm getting used to it.”

She looked at him as if he had just punched her in the face.

“What?”

“Well, it's what you do, isn't it?” He quickly made an effort for the sweet O tone to return to his voice. “I mean... they all know, I can see that they know and I know, too. That half of what you're telling us about us is just you deflecting, trying to avoid _actually_ talking. Like you're scared to share anything true about you.”

The Doctor was staring at him as if he'd just revealed to her that time was palpable, mouth hanging slightly open and eyes fixed on him unblinkingly.

“Okay...” she muttered. “That was...”

Her voice trailed away as she turned around, making to leave and the Master quickly jumped forwards, taking her hand between both of his, holding her in place.

“I'm sorry,” he swiftly reassures her even though he isn't, even though she needed to hear it. “I'm sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just think that you should... sometimes, truly talk. Get some things off your chest.”

He waited until she had turned her head and gave her his crooked, most apologetic smile.

“It can't be easy, carrying all of it on your own. And we're your friends. We... we'll listen. We'll understand.”

It was still weird, talking about their friendship while including her pets. They cared about her, alright, but they were... they weren't like him. They hadn't been there for every step of the way. Hadn't watched her grow colder and more dangerous, more broken, more traumatised, with every step further away from him that she took.

Then again, he had to face it, didn't he? He had not been there for every step of the way, either. She'd lived a whole, secret life without him he knew absolutely nothing about.

Pain gripped as his hearts, but the Doctor, stupid, silly, Doctor, fully turned back around to him, giving him a sad smile.

“I don't want to carry it all alone,” she agreed. “But it's... hard to open up to people. If you've lost as much as I have... I watched them all leave, again and again, with my secrets, my burdens. I don't know how many people I can do that to. How many times I can bring myself to tell them.”

He said the only thing he could say, then and he knew, oh he knew, that it was an awful thing to say, that it was the kind of thing her love-sick puppies always said, the words of a dreamer, words so entirely predictably untrue, but he, Gods help him, he meant them.

“I'll never leave you, Doctor.”

“You better not,” she joked half-heartedly but she saw the sadness underneath the gleaming of her eyes, his hands squeezing hers a bit tighter.

“Hey, I understand it's hard. Let's start little. What did you come here to talk about?”

She took a deep breath and followed him as he sat down on the bed, tugging her along with him gently. When she was sitting next to him, hand still in his, watching him gently run the tips of his fingers over the back of her hand, she relaxed a little.

“You were right, earlier. When you said that Tesla reminded you of me. You were right and I knew it but I just couldn't...”

She shook her head, looking sad as she avoided his gaze. He lifted one hand off hers, resting it underneath her chin, tilting her head up.

“You couldn't what, Doctor?”

She hesitated, then took another breath, seemingly making a decision. When she spoke again, her eyes met his without fear but with determination sparkling in her hazel.

“I had a friend once,” she started and oh no, he was not ready for this, he was not expecting this, he couldn't do this. “He was... a lot like me. Until he wasn't anymore. And now she's gone. I don't know where to. I just know it's too far for me to catch up anymore. And I... When I allow myself to think of.. of my past, my childhood, she's always there, intertwined with me, with everything.”

He couldn't speak. What was he supposed to say? That he had felt the same way? That he'd fled from their past faster than a whirlwind, tried to destroy every last bit of it with the force of a tornado, that he'd have done anything, everything to finally rid his hearts of the pain it brought, only to now realise that finding out none of it was real was so, so much _worse_?

“And now I think she might've destroyed my home planet,” the Doctor whispered, into his silence, making the Master freeze all over, sit completely still. He was sure even his hearts had frozen, were unable to beat anymore, simply giving out on him.

He was cold and the hands around the Doctor's were stiffly trembling.

Quickly, the Master pulled them back so she wouldn't notice.

With a little clearing of her throat, the Doctor tugged her own hands into her lap, looking down on them sadly.

“I know... I know, it's... it's _bad_ , isn't it?”

“Bad?” he asked, trying desperately, helplessly to sort out his thoughts. What was she even talking about? She'd dropped this bomb shell in his lap, let him know that she knew, that she'd immediately known and here she sat, trying to have a conversation.

“I mean,” she sniffed. “I bet you don't have friends who burn entire planets to ashes. I bet no one but me has. It's.. it's crazy. I shouldn't have... I feel like it's my fault. Like I did this, somehow. I don't even know why she'd do it, but I know that she would.”

The Doctor shivered beside him, still looking down at her hands.

“Sometimes trying to tame a tiger and then failing just ends with the tiger eating all your friends, I suppose.”

The Master frowned.

Was he the tiger in this metaphor? He'd let both, his human eating and his Cheetah phase behind.

“I think that...” he tried carefully, relieved to find his voice was carrying him. “I think... we can't control what our friends do. But how we... uhm... react to that.”

He'd read something similar once in a magazine. Spending so much time on Earth had its advantages, apparently, because it sounded smart and the Doctor looked up at him with the tiniest of smiles now.

“You don't hate me, then?”

“Hate you?” he spluttered. “What for? Wait, that's what you were worried about?”

She nodded, carefully.

“I never... I mean, I never speak about this with my other friends. She's a bit hard to explain, that one. Every once in a while, some of my friends will meet them and it never ends... well. But I wanted to tell you the truth. I really did. I feel like you deserve to know. Something about you... I dunno what it is. Something about you makes me want to tell you.”

She was embarrassed about him. That's what this was.

I can tell you what it is, the Master thought dryly, even as he forced himself into a smile. Can't drive me away by revealing myself to me.

“But how do you feel?” he asked, tone soft in typical O manner. “It must be hard, thinking a friend did this to your home.”

It was stupid. It was risky. He shouldn't do it. Wasn't even sure if he could stand her answer. But some - undoubtedly masochistic - part of him needed to hear it.

“Scared,” she said. “Scared for her. Cuz if she did this, there really isn't any saving her now.”

Ice clawed its way around the Master's hearts and he suppressed a shiver. He felt cold all over, felt like he'd just stepped out of a hot shower with nothing to wear in deep winter.

“I...-” he said, unsure what he was even going to say, how he was even going to explain to her, but the Doctor shook her head, let herself fall backwards onto his bed.

“I just need to not think for a while, y'know? I like being around you. It's easy. You're kind and sweet and funny and interesting and adventurous and so... so not like that.”

He wanted to laugh but no sound left his parched lips.

“Doctor...” he croaked but before he had to come up with anything to say, she had sat back up again, closer to him now, lips almost touching his and her eyes boring into his, gleaming seductively.

“Just make me forget, O.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He couldn't. Shouldn't. Wouldn't.

He absolutely couldn't.

But the Doctor seemed to take his shocked silence as agreement, seemed to not realise that he was nothing but a deer in headlights and the second her warm lips touched his frozen one, they melted against her and he felt himself lost in her.

Eagerly, passionately, he pressed her against him, kissed her back with everything he had. She wanted this, right? She wanted to forget him and he, ironically, was the one person who could do that. Nothing wrong with that, right? His head was getting dizzy from her taste. So new and yet still her, familiar, as it seeped into every pore of his being and he couldn't help but wonder how she didn't notice, how she couldn't know. How could she not feel that connection between them? How could she not recognise every touch, every bit of skin pressing together, when he felt like coming home?

He pressed her into the bed, climbing over her, eyes warm and glittering back into hers. He loved her, he did, he really did and he had been such an idiot to not admit it to himself before. Maybe he had but he had never, ever, felt it like this before. All-consuming, as everything else blurred away into background noise.

“Please, O...” Her voice was breathless against him and he felt her shift, felt her spread her legs beneath him and there was honestly no power in the universe to stop him anymore.

He kissed her hard, one hand in her hair, pulling her face closer to his, the other between them, pulling frantically at her trousers.

The Doctor chuckled against his lips.

“Suspenders.”

“Damn them,” the Master growled, but a laugh escaped him nonetheless, as they reluctantly sat up and he unclipped her suspenders. He kissed her neck gently, lips wandering to her shoulder, where a patch of reddened skin was just visible underneath the shirt collar and kissed that, too.

The Doctor let herself fall back again, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head with urgency.

He had to swallow when he looked down – She hadn't been wearing a bra and she looked ridiculously hot like this, just in her blue trousers, suspenders spread out beside her and her bare breasts perking up towards him.

He sank down before her without thinking, legs kneeling between her legs, lips brushing her breasts and he could see her shiver beneath him.

He couldn't stop, couldn't break away from them. He sucked on her nipples, gently made purple bite marks at the sides of her breasts, squeezed them with his hands, completely drunk on feeling her like this, spread out beneath her, head fallen back and panting and moaning. So helpless, he thought as he paused for just a moment, looking down at her with stunned amazement spreading inside of her.

She was completely helpless beneath her and somehow that only made him want her more.

“Please,” she moaned again and she couldn't possibly know how this little word unravelled him. Breathlessly, the Master nodded, his throat dry as he leaned down to kiss her lips again while he pulled down her trousers.

She sat up before him, hands running over his shoulders and she shouldn't be this gentle with him, shouldn't touch him like he was breakable, but she did and then she helped him take off the shirt and her eyes went _soft_ , like she'd never seen anything as beautiful as his bare chest and the Master's breath hitched for a moment.

“You're beautiful,” she grinned and he couldn't do much more than laugh hoarsely, considering he hadn't managed to take his eyes off her body once, had despised the single second where his head was covered from his shirt.

He kissed her because he had to, because he felt like he might drown if he wasn't hanging from her lips and he felt her hands on his waistband, pulling. Moaning, he helped her slip out of his trousers, and there they lay, in nothing but their boxers, pressing against each other, rubbing, thrusting, humping like animals. Her hands clawed into his back and he didn't care, just cared about feeling her. When he finally held himself back for long enough to get a hand down and pull down her boxers, her felt her wet against him, pressing against his fingers.

“Please, O, please, please, just... take me...”

She was so far gone. It took only a single second to clear his head enough to know she was feeling helpless and hollow and sad and had climbed into his bed to forget all of it, to just let go. He should've stopped. Should've held her and told her the truth. Should've found back to himself and broken her along with him, as he had wanted to.

Instead, he pressed a finger against her and inside, the sound of her wetness making her shiver beneath her, as he climbed up her body, kissed her neck and growled, “hands over your head.”

The Doctor didn't hesitate for a moment and, oh Gods, he could've come there and then just from the view of her completely naked, arms held together as if tied, flushed face and lust-filled eyes staring up at him.

He wanted to keep this picture in his mind forever and ever, wanted to never forget that mix of trust and lust and seduction in her gaze. With a whimper, all control lost, the Master lined himself up quickly, pressing against her entrance and she bucked up beneath him, pressing back.

“Yes,” she whined. “Yes, yes, please.”

He pushed in with one, hard thrust and she gasped as he did, froze beneath him for a second, eyes closed, then a smile build and she kissed him hungrily, pulled his face down to her with a hand clawing at his hair.

“You were supposed to keep them up,” he said, but a laugh was caught in his voice. It was hard to tell where he started and O ended, right now. O would've laughed. And apparently so would he.

The Doctor was just grinning at him cheekily and he was fairly sure she would've done that to either of them.

The Master started thrusting, trying his best to be gentle, to start slow, but he needed her, he needed her so much and his thrusts quickly grew urgent, frantic, hips pushing against her, while she met each of them with just as much desperation, moaning freely beneath him.

He was holding her shoulder now, pushing himself in harder, relieved that she seemed to take him just as eagerly as he was and he knew he wouldn't last long. She'd made him completely fall apart inside her, around her, above her, had shattered what was left of him into pieces and he knew afterwards, there was no way to be sure, once he was gonna put himself back together, which pieces were his and which were O's.

Not that he cared, not right now, not with her arching her back at him in desperate pleasure as he rubbed his thumb over her clit, not with her clutching around his cock hotly, throbbing, pulling him over the edge with her. Not with him coming inside of her, feeling relief wash over him so hot and over-powering, there suddenly were tears in his eyes.

“Wow,” she breathed, as they had fallen back onto the bed, limps intertwined, his fingers gently tracing over the skin of her hips, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Their hair was soaked with sweat, there was wetness pooling between her legs, a delicious mix of both of their arousals, they just wrapped a blanket around themselves, leaving their problems and guilt and hurt out of their little nest for this one night.

Well, hers did. The Master could feel the ice claw its back into his hearts as soon as silence settled over them. Pulled the Doctor closer, in hope to drive it away.

That was that, then, wasn't it? Ice for him, fire for O.

It seemed clear enough what he had to do, now. He was simply going to have to be O forever.

Easy enough, really.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to throw things. Instead, he buried his face into her hair, smelling the familiar smell of Doctor, now mixed with him, all over her.

And the Doctor slept peacefully in his arms.


End file.
